


Wide Eyes

by Random_ag



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess
Genre: i have. no idea how to tag this, skull kid is in his twilight princess design
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:13:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22039132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_ag/pseuds/Random_ag
Summary: The child appears out of nowhere.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Wide Eyes

The child smiles wide. He rocks back and forth on a branch.

The traveler looks at him wearily, and spits on the ground without taking his eyes off the little creature. That is not a child, she thinks. The traveler’s companion shields his eyes to look up.

“Who are you?” he asks like a fool.

The child doesn’t answer. His head tilts and with it tilts his hat.

The traveler unsheathes her sword. It sends short, shining glimmers through the leaves as the blade meets the low light of day.

The child giggles. He holds a trumpet in his hands.

“If it’s a fight you want, it’s a fight you’ll get, you little fiend.”

The child laughs - heehee hehe haha! His voice echoes in the woods.

“You’re lost.” the child says, and it sounds like tinkering glass being broken to bits, “You’re lost and you can’t go home.”

“Whatever you’re trying to do, cease it this instant!”

“You’re lost and you can’t go home.” the child repeats cheerfully, annoyingly, childishly, as he lolls left and right, “Play with me.“

“Play what?” the traveler’s companion asks before she stops him and growls at him furiously.

“Don’t talk to it like that!” she hisses; she forces him to draw his weapon as well, just in case the going gets tough, so that they’re both prepared: “We will not surrender to you, imp!”

“Play with me, play with me,” the child insists, becoming agitated, “You’re lost anyways, so play with me.”

“Never!”

The child stills. His eyes are big and round.

“Then I’ll have to make you play.”

It’s a second, or a minute, or an hour: a brassy sound breaks the air, spindly invisible strings cut through it, puppet claws scratch it madly, and they run. They run and run away between the bark of trees and the grass of clearings, between still smiles and rustling leaves, between red droplets and a slowly setting sun. They run away from the brass, but the sound just keeps on wrapping around their necks, and the puppets just keep on catching up to them, and fast. So fast the traveler doesn’t notice her companion has gone, run off, into the trees, into the woods, into a different path, and yet the puppets are still in hot pursuit, she’s sure, of both of them.

Her sword turns, slashes, cuts; the puppets fall with a sturdy sound, disappear with a stiff crackling, like that of leaves in autumn.

The traveler breathes hard.

A laugh - like porcelain breaking on the floor, like mischief in the making, like scissors cutting ribbon - makes her rise her head in terror.

The child stands on a branch, his figure blocking the sun.

His orange eyes are wide and bright, his large sharp smile seems hollowed.

“You’re lost.” the child croons with a hiss, and his little pupils gleam terribly. “You’re lost and you can’t go home.”


End file.
